


oh he's asleep-

by coolballsamirite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Miya Atsumu, Consensual Kink, Consensual Somnophilia, Don't Try This At Home, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Sex, If You're Going To Try This, M/M, Please Reconsider, Somnophilia, Top Ushijima Wakatoshi, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolballsamirite/pseuds/coolballsamirite
Summary: monday came early and, honestly, Wakatoshi isn't mad.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Kudos: 57





	oh he's asleep-

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Monday Morning Massages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287517) by [TheMadKatter13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/pseuds/TheMadKatter13). 



> I am.
> 
> so sorry.
> 
> this one is just.............. I've just projected my own kink onto these characters and i-
> 
> this one contains somnophilia in case you didnt read the tags.
> 
> sue me

Mondays were Wakatoshi's favourite day of the week. Not just because the little travelling book shop stopped by the apartment on mondays, or because the new edition of the baking magazine he'd subrsibed to came in the mail, or even because he had a full day off of work. But because of none other than Miya "I spend all my time overworking myself" Atsumu.

Atsumu and Wakatoshi had graduated highschool with flying colours, thrown themselves at college like a pair of crazed animals and now shared a cozy little apartment together, nestled cozily above a successful little baker's shop. Atsumu had decided to pursue a volleyball career, and Wakatoshi took ownership of 'the showroom bakery' below their home. Mondays were the best because they were always free.

The two had bought an apartment together at first simply for convenience; suprisingly enough, being a baker didn't quite earn enough money to pay rent, and chasing after volleyball didn't quite cut it, either; not while Atsumu was still in the beginnings of his career, at least. But, they figured one morning in their shared college dorm, if the two of them split the rent, they would have plenty of money to spare and spoil themselves with. Who wouldn't go right for it?

Mondays had started being his favourite for fairly simple reasons. On mondays, Atsumu would have time off. They would play meaningless video games together; eat countless packets of cheap, weirdly-flavoured chips (so far, sea weed and tree bark were his favourite); indulge themselves in useless competitions, like makeshift ping pong with a banana and tennis rackets. He wasn't entirely sure what Atsumu had done to him to make him agree to all of that, actually.

He was sure, however, of exactly when it changed.

Atsumu had come padding into their home with his head down, shoulders hunched so far forwards Wakatoshi could barely see his face, a heavy bag of volleyball uniform in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other. He'd had a surprise practice game on that day, Wakatoshi remembered, and it had hit him harder than either of them expected. Atsumu's coach had always been rough on him - the captain, too - and he remembered him venting that day about how he messed up 'one damn time' and they benched him. Wakatoshi had remarked that he looked tense and could use some destressing, and then, somehow, that lead to him giving a massage to his flatmate.

He remembered how he'd sat on the backs of Atsumu's thighs, working the muscles of his neck with both of thumbs, and Atsumu had tensed under him, body rigid until Wakatoshi raked a hand down his back and he fell limp, groaning into the couch cushions. He'd been careful to keep his hips away from his friend from there on in.

He didn't really understand how, but now monday massages were a part of his and Atsumu's routine. They'd play dumb videogames, eat meals together, laugh about everything and nothing, and then Atsumu would lie on the couch and Wakatoshi would dutifully sit on his corded thighs and work out the knots in his tense muscles. It was almost strange how normal it was, but he would never complain. Any day that he could to lay his hands on his roommate was a good day.

So maybe Wakatoshi had a tiny crush on his closest friend. Sue him. If anything, he blamed Atsumu for being so damn wonderful all the time.

A hiss and a click filtered it's way in through his train of thought, then a pair of heavy footsteps and the 'thunk' of a familiar volleyball bag hitting the floor. Atsumu only grunted lowly in greeting from the doorway.

"Welcome home." Wakatoshi wasn't sure when he'd stood from the couch, but all of a sudden he was facing an exhausted looking Atsumu.

"It's not monday," Atsumu grumbled, falling forwards onto Wakatoshi's chest, "but I need you."

Wakatoshi froze for a moment, just staring down at the frazzled mop of sunflower yellow hair against his chest, completely in a daze at his words. He blinked himself out of it and snaked his arms around Atsumu, pulling him off his feet so he could cradle him to his chest.

"The usual?" He asked quietly.

"Do whatever you want with me," Atsumu said tiredly, meeting his eyes for a moment, "even when I fall asleep."

Atsumu was definitely delirious. His sheer exhaustion must've made his brain stop working, or his thoughts go all scrambled, because he had not just said that to him. He couldn't have. Wakatoshi froze in place again, looking down at Atsumu through slightly widened, his arms wrapped bridal-style around his body.

"Do you... does that mean what I think it does?"

"Yes." Atsumu practically groaned. Wakatoshi couldn't fight back a laugh - albeit a nervous one -, even as he gently set him face-down on the couch as he usually did. He carefully hooked his fingers under the hem of Atsumu's shirt, pulling it up and over his head in a smooth, practised motion. He sat as usual on the flat of his thighs, his hands barely meeting Atsumu's neck before his roommate was humming gratefully and very quickly falling to sleep.

Wakatoshi spent as little time as possible massaging Atsumu's back, while still doing a respectful job of easing his muscles as much as he usually would. He tried - he really did - not to rush it, not to just skip the whole thing and jump ahead to what he really wanted to do to Atsumu, but he still found himself finishing the massage far earlier than normal. It took all of about fifteen (maybe twenty) minutes, and then he was running his hands down the ridges of his back purely for self-indulgence, feeling how his muscles rippled under his touch, how his smooth skin tightened as he brushed against his ribcage.

"Fuck..." He cursed softly, dragging the heel of his palm across Atsumu's spine and down to the elastic of his loose gym shorts. It took far longer than he wanted to shuffle himself under Atsumu's hips, laying him across his thighs.

For a moment, Wakatoshi just sat there with Atsumu draped across his lap, big hands roaming across the milky skin of his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and shoulderblades, the dip of his hips and the untouched skin just beneath the waistband of his boxers. He dug his fingers beneath the layers of fabric and slid Atsumu's shorts and underwear off all at once, his knuckles brushing against the muscles of his thighs. His eyes tracked how his legs twitched as he ran smooth fingers down the inside of his knees, how they shook when he dragged them down his calves.

"So beautiful," Wakatoshi murmured, trailing his hands back up Atsumu's legs and to the curve of his ass. He teased his hands over smooth skin, huffing an amused breath through his nose at the tiny noise that came from Atsumu when he spread him bare. 

There was no hesitancy in his movements as he reached into the little hidden drawer at the bottom of the coffee table, pulled out a half-used bottle of pinkish lube, and flicked the lid open with a satisfying 'click'. He was quick to coat his fingers, warming it with his hands in case he woke Atsumu because of the cold.

Wakatoshi softly pressed a finger to Atsumu's rim, circling it lightly. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips when Atsumu let out a breathy little noise, hands tightening into fists by his sides. He splayed a hand over Atsumu's back as he pushed a finger in, following the gentle arch of his spine when he crooked his finger, a fragile moan filling the air.

"Fuck, 'Tsumu," He murmured, slowly dragging his finger in and out, groaning quietly at the tight pressure Atsumu gave him, "you dreaming of me?"

He knew Atsumu wouldn't answer - he was asleep, for god's sake -, was almost glad that all that met his question was his heavy, slumbering breathing. A second finger soon joined his first, both of them angling upwards as he pushed them in, until finally, finally, Atsumu's quiet moaning turned sharp and high pitched. He grinned and crooked his fingers again, hitting that same spot until Atsumu was absently pushing his hips back to meet his fingers, high moans - almost squeaks - becoming a song in Wakatoshi's blood.

He got cocky. If Atsumu hadn't woken up by now, then surely he wouldn't wake up if he added a third finger? With no hesitation, he slipped a third in, all three tilted just right so Atsumu was arching his back, jaw slack as he moaned in his sleep.

"Oh my god," Atsumu jolted awake, hands clawing desperately at the couch cushion, "fuck, fuck, don't stop, don't stop-"

Wakatoshi didn't exactly have any intention of stopping, instead picked up the pace, his free hand still splayed over Atsumu's back, pressing him firmly down onto the couch.

"Feel good?" He asked in a quiet rumble, forcing his fingers deeper inside of him, lifting his thighs just slightly so that Atsumu's hips raised for a better angle. Atsumu moaned obscenely, shoving his hips backwards to match Wakatoshi's brutal pace, his hands tightly clutching the edges of the cushion he was laid on.

"Fuck, yes," He slurred, mindlessly letting Wakatoshi fuck him on his fingers, eyes rolling backwards into his head just slightly.

"You're so tight, 'Tsumu," Wakatoshi bit out, "taking 2qmy fingers so fucking good."

"Oh, fuck— please, 'Toshi," Atsumu managed through a moan, "touch me, touch me, please-"

Wakatoshi groaned, sliding his hand down from Atsumu's back and around to his cock, wrapping skillful fingers around his base. An ear-shattering moan broke from Atsumu as he tugged once, twice, and then he was cumming with another broken moan, his hips weakly rolling backwards onto Wakatoshi's still-thrusting fingers, his breathing heavy and ragged and wrecked.

"Fuck..." Wakatoshi mumbled, slowly taking his fingers out of Atsumu, smoothing his hand down his back again when he whined at the overly sensitive feeling.

Atsumu fell limp across his lap again, careful to avoid the cum that dirtied the couch by Wakatoshi's leg, his face pressed into a pillow.

"Are you okay?" Wakatoshi asked, worry lacing the deep baritone of his voice. 

"I'm good, just," Atsumu hauled himself up onto his elbows, "just gotta catch my breath."

Wakatoshi huffed out a laugh, swooping Atsumu into his lap so his thighs were straddling his waist. He leaned upwards and brushed a feather light kiss to his lips.

"You did so well," He murmured, "I'm sorry if it was too hard on you."

"It was perfect." Atsumu quickly dissuaded the look of concern on Wakatoshi's face with a kiss to his nose, an out-of-character blush sitting high on his cheekbones, "What does this make us?"

"Hopefully something more than roommates." Wakatoshi admitted, a large hand cupping Atsumu's chin. He grinned as Atsumu nodded, hands resting on his shoulders as a smile blossomed on his face.

"I can live with that."


End file.
